I Miss the Ocean

For the past three summers, my daughter Ingrid and I and her family, have gone to the beach in Destin, Florida. This summer, because of scheduling conflicts and other special family events, we didn’t get to go.

And I have to say, I miss the ocean.

One of the first things I do when I get there is to walk out into the clear emerald water and stare out over the horizon. The scene is vast and mesmerizing. What is out there, far beyond what I can see? I wonder.

Giant ships sail slowly by in the distance. A speed boat will move across the waves now and then, far enough out you can barely see the people on deck. Seagulls fill the sky and the noise they make is not at all disturbing but adds to the beauty in front of me. They seem to be singing as they dip toward the beach in search of food.

But on farther out, past any sight of boats or ships, the ocean remains, enormous and limitless, disappearing from view.

Loren Eisley, the brilliant anthropologist, once said, “If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water.” And so it is.

I think of that when I stand in the ocean. There is magic, yes. But there is also longing. A giant sigh is felt when I look across it. There is a mystery to it, and the awareness of how massive and majestic the earth is.

We need the ocean. It is refreshing to see it and to be in it. There is medicine in it, for the soul, the mind, and the human spirit.

It is vital to the ecology and environment of the planet. It provides food to millions. It is teeming with life and endless species of sea creatures and plants.

Someone has said there are three elemental sounds in nature: the sound of rain, the sound of the wind, and the sound of the ocean lapping the beach.

“Smell the sea, and feel the sky,” sings Van Morrison, “Let your soul and spirit fly, into the mystic.”

In his book, Beyond Words, minister and author Frederick Buechner, tells how when the great theologian Paul Tillich went to the beach, he would find a spot where he gathered the sand into a small pile. Then he would sit on it watching the ocean with tears running down his face.

It’s not clear what moved him so deeply. Perhaps simply the beauty around him. Or maybe it was an awareness of how small his life was in comparison to the infinite ocean and that his worries melted away into insignificance. Or he may have simply been overcome with the presence of the divine.

The ocean can do that to us. It is full of life lessons. It carries the whispering mists of wisdom and the forceful waves of power. It invites us to be strong, and to stay soft, to go deep in our understanding of life and people, and to swim in the embrace of all that is beautiful until we are carried into love.

I miss the ocean.

© 2019 Timothy Moody